


could I interest you in a side of sex with that caviar?

by Flavy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Eddie has the best Christmas ever, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pool Table Sex, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, so does richie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavy/pseuds/Flavy
Summary: Re-posting. Sincere apologies to all those that took the time to kudo/comment on the original post.~Richie was doing the leering thing again, quite deliberately dipping the tip of his pinky finger into the martini and giving it a stir along the salted rim before sticking it between his lips, pink tongue darting to collect the moisture—and all of a sudden, Eddie felt thirstier than he’d ever been.He didn’t even know what he was thirsty for, except... goddamn, Richie’s insolent mouth looked hot enough to fuck.~Office holiday party sex. Richie gives Eddie the best gift ever.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	could I interest you in a side of sex with that caviar?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teenagedirtbaq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagedirtbaq/gifts).



> Sincere apologies to all those that took the time to kudo/comment on the original post.

Eddie was bored out of his mind.

The banquet hall, the people, the glorified Christmas music. 

God, it was all so bourgeois, so predictable to the point of being insipid—almost like they’d cloned a party a decade ago and were spinning it out every holiday season with barely any novelty attached to it.

Why did he even bother coming? All he ever did at these parties was sample the food, wander about for a couple of hours in the absence of any worthwhile entertainment, and go home. And it didn’t appear to be going any differently this year.

Sighing to himself, he buried his hands in his tuxedo trouser pockets and surveyed the crowded hall over again from where he stood near the bar at the top of the stairs, eyes not quite settling on any of it—not the blurring sea of faces, nor the intricate candle chandeliers, nor the luscious flower arrangements adorning every food table scattered throughout; not even the enormous Christmas tree that dazzled with its gold and crystal ornaments, no doubt magnificent in its opulence. 

At least the food was better this year. More expensive. The beluga caviar was certainly to die for. Maybe he could go have some more—just to say he got some value out of the whole thing.

Just as he was about to move off, a melodious voice called out from nearby.

“Come down and dance with me,” Bev said as she approached, her flushed face alit with more than just festive cheer. She was holding a glass of sparkling champagne, one of many from what Eddie had counted, and she was clearly tipsy. Once at his side, she linked her arm through his. “You’ve been standing here keeping watch like a gargoyle for like a whole hour now.”

Eddie gave a soft snort. “Isn’t that what I always do?”

“That’s why you should come dance with me,” Bev insisted. “Have some actual fun at a party for a change, you know?”

“I’ll have fun when I’m home in my bed and reading my book.”

Bev shook her head, ruby earrings dangling to and fro. “What a lonely existence you lead,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. She took a sip of the fizzing liquid in her glass before giving him a gentle tug. “Come on, let’s go mingle at least… who knows, this could be your lucky night. You might even meet somebody.”

“Like who?” Eddie asked with no small degree of skepticism. “I know most of these people.” If not all, he added to himself mournfully.

“Like…” Bev hummed as she scanned the hall. “Ooh—like that guy at the bar over by the Christmas tree,” she said, visibly perking up. “See him? Black tux, longish hair, dorky glasses? God… even with those glasses, he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

Following her gaze, Eddie’s eyes fell upon the guy that matched her description, startled to discover that the guy was staring right back at him. 

He was perched upon one of the bar stools, a full martini glass held in one hand, scruffy face framed by a wave of curly hair that was almost unkempt in appearance. Eddie was quite sure he’d never seen him before, certainly not around the office. 

Suddenly overcome by the feeling that the guy had been staring at him for a while, Eddie forced himself to look away.

“Who is that even?” he asked with as much indifference as he could muster.

With a gasp, Bev’s arm tightened around his. “Oh, shit, you know what? I think that’s Richie Tozier. Ben told me he might be bringing him along, they’re friends. He does stand up—pretty successful, too, from what I hear.” She paused to utter a squeak of excitement. “Let’s go down and talk to him! I’d love to get some tickets to one of his shows.” 

“No, thanks,” Eddie said without even giving it a thought. Something about the guy just rubbed him the wrong way. Besides, he didn’t particularly enjoy comedy shows and judging by the stupidly goofy grin plastered all over the smug face, Eddie was sure to be rolling his eyes the entire time. 

Bev, on the other hand, was nearly beside herself with excitement. “Come on, please? I think he likes you, he’s totally ogling you.”

“No—no, it must be you he’s looking at,” Eddie rushed to say, trying to convince himself of the same despite being quite sure of the opposite. 

As Bev went on to disagree with him, Eddie’s eyes impulsively strayed back to Richie, eyebrows furrowing slightly. Seriously, what the actual fuck was he staring at? He leered like he knew what Eddie looked like underneath his tux. 

… Or maybe _wanted_ to know. Fuck.

When Richie raised his glass with a slight nod in his direction, Eddie quickly looked away again to stress his disinterest, all the while ignoring the unexpected stirring in his gut. He waited a few good seconds before furtively stealing a glance back to make sure Richie got the message, but Richie was still staring at him, grinning lopsidedly like he knew exactly what Eddie was doing, which only served to piss Eddie off just a little bit more.

Deciding he wasn’t going to look back again, not another glance—not for the rest of the fucking night, Eddie firmly fixed his eyes upon something at the other side of the room. He couldn’t even tell what he was looking at, heart beating with funny little jerks.

“Okay, well—I’m going to go introduce myself,” Bev said, adjusting her cherry-red gown to showcase more of her peaking breasts. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Very,” Eddie said, having no intention of talking to him at all. “I think I’ll go have more caviar.”

“Killjoy,” Bev muttered as they made their way down the stairs side by side, separating into different directions once they’d reached the main floor. 

Eddie put in his best effort not to check back on her progress as he stalked towards the nearest appetizer table, but no sooner than he reached it, he found himself throwing surreptitious glances in the direction she’d gone, all the while trying to appear perfectly random about it. She and Richie were engaged in conversation now, all smiles and easygoing body language, the way two people might interact when they’d just met but already knew they’d become fast friends. It figured—they were definitely birds of a feather, that much was clear.

It didn’t escape his notice that they’d glanced his way a couple of times, prompting him to avert his eyes (regrettably, not swiftly enough either time) and stew over the fact that he was still hankering to look. 

Although he could hardly blame his curiosity, could he? Why the hell were they talking about him and what were they even saying??

It was a good while later that he’d finally got up the nerve to lift his eyes again, just in time to see Beverly drape herself over Richie to press a kiss to his cheek, face beaming with gratitude. Something about tickets crossed his mind briefly before his brain went “Oh, shit,” urgently registering the fact that she’d drifted away and Richie was now most definitely heading towards him.

Snapping his head back to the table, Eddie’s eyes darted around it in near panic. Realizing he hadn’t even picked up a plate yet and badly itching to do something with his hands that seemed to now be hanging clumsily at his sides, Eddie snatched up a side plate from the neat stack at the center and began piling it up with caviar, his movements unusually awkward and stiff.

Mere seconds later, Richie was beside him, leaning back against the edge of the table to peer at him, untouched martini in his hand. “Eddie, right?” 

“That’s right,” Eddie said flatly after a moment, keeping at his task. “What of it?”

Richie chuckled, the sound of it surprisingly soft and pleasant. “She’d warned me you were a bit of an anti-socialite. Not that I’m complaining, I’ve had my fill of party animals.” There was a pause. “Are you gonna eat all that?”

In lieu of an answer, Eddie spooned up a whole lot more, tapping it against the plate to loosen it with a pronounced clink. Although Richie said nothing as he watched, Eddie could sense his amusement, so tangible it was. And it fucking annoyed him.

“Is there a reason why you keep staring at me?”

Richie leaned in, lowering his voice. “Maybe I like what I see.”

“Not much use if it’s not mutual,” Eddie said, congratulating himself on sounding just as offhanded as he’d intended to.

“Oh, it’s mutual,” Richie replied after a beat, leaning back again to sweep the hall and give the glass in his hand a mild swirl, plump olive bobbing around. He took the tiniest sip of the frosted liquid. “I’m virtually irresistible.”

Eddie snorted. “Is that what your mom tells you?”

“No, that’s what _your_ mom tells me.”

Eddie nearly choked on the spoonful of beluga he’d put into his mouth, promptly tapping at his chest with his fist as he cleared it out. Stupid fucker.

“By God—is that an actual smile I see?” Richie said, affecting mild astonishment. “A Christmas miracle, if I ever saw one. The way you stood frozen up at the top of the stairs, I thought you’d run out of facial expressions.”

So Richie had been watching him—for God knows how long. “Can’t you find someone else to bother? I’m sure there’s _someone_ around here that wants your autograph.”

“You mean you don’t?”

Exasperated, Eddie shot him a look. “Not even if you were funny,” he deadpanned. “Look, I just want to eat this in peace. Okay? Is that okay with you?”

Richie’s eyes were twinkling. “You’re super cute, you know that?” he said, fishing the bamboo pick out of his drink and popping the olive into his mouth. “You owe me a kiss, by the way.”

“… I’m sorry?”

Richie pointed up. “It’s seven years of bad luck if we don’t kiss,” he said when Eddie followed his gaze to find he’d had the misfortune of stopping at the table that was situated underneath an entire garland of weaved holly and mistletoe. 

Eddie shook his head, genuinely amused. “Has that line ever actually worked for you?”

“Actually—yes. On housewives and 40-year-old virgins in particular.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark on both fronts,” Eddie said before making to move off. He was done here. “Excuse me.” 

He’d only made it a few steps before Richie’s voice rose again. 

“Would you care to substantiate that claim?”

Stopping short, Eddie stood his ground for a faltering moment before turning slowly. 

Richie was doing the leering thing again, quite deliberately dipping the tip of his pinky finger into the martini and giving it a stir along the salted rim before sticking it between his lips, pink tongue darting to collect the moisture—and all of a sudden, Eddie felt thirstier than he’d ever been. He didn’t even know what he was thirsty for, except—

—goddamn, Richie’s insolent mouth looked hot enough to fuck. 

“And why would I want to do that?” he asked, voice coming out just a tad hoarse.

Richie approached, lips stretching to reveal a row of gleaming white teeth. As he neared him, he slowed down to lean into him slightly, whispering, “Meet me in the rec room in five minutes,” before moving past, his over-confident manner both infuriating and insanely attractive.

Once his footsteps faded into the booming carols permeating the atmosphere, Eddie inhaled the faint scent of the cologne lingering behind and released a slow, unsteady breath. Damn, he smelled good.

But—there was no way. No fucking way.

Richie’s proposition was… irrational, indecent. Foolish. Utterly absurd.

Not to mention risky. Yes, definitely risky. If they got caught, Eddie would get fired—without severance pay, no less. The sheer embarrassment involved would be sufficient to make him crawl into his bed and hide under the covers for most of the rest of his life. Would there even be a lock on the rec room door? And why was he still thinking about it? It wasn’t like he was actually going to meet him there. Was he?

No… no way. Not a chance in hell.

Not in five minutes or ten minutes or _ever_.

Precisely seven minutes later, Eddie was slipping through the double doors of the rec room across the hallway, silently cursing himself for being an absolute idiot.

The room was immersed in semi-darkness in the absence of full lighting, but since it wasn’t very large, Eddie spotted him almost instantly. He was leaning back against the billiards table, hands inside his trouser pockets, a triumphant grin fixed upon his infuriatingly smug face—and fuck, Eddie just wanted to wipe it right off, preferably by finding Richie’s mouth a much better use.

Giving the door a quick survey, he was relieved to find there was indeed a lock on it, and something akin to determination washed over him.

Pushing the heavy latch closed, he turned to Richie, wetting his lips.

Fuck, he looked hot—when he didn’t speak.

Sensing Richie was about to open his mouth, Eddie rushed up to him in several quick strides, clamping a firm hand over it and hissing, “Not a word. Let’s just fuck.”

“Yessir,” Richie mumbled readily, fisting his hands into Eddie’s lapels and flipping them around to slam Eddie up against the hard edge of the table, momentarily knocking the wind out of him.

Dizzy with want, Eddie grunted. “Don’t call me that.”

Richie gave a chuckle, insistent fingers working to unbuckle his belt. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Fuck, do you ever shut up?” Eddie said, breath quickening in anticipation. His cock was already hard and straining against the constraint of his trousers, begging for more contact.

Richie’s grin broadened. “Only when I have a dick obstructing my throat.”

“You don’t say,” Eddie remarked, giving Richie a light push in the right direction just as Richie seemed to get the same idea, plunging to his knees and yanking Eddie’s pants and boxer shorts down over his hips to finally free his throbbing erection. 

Within the next instant, Eddie’s head was rolling back, eyelids dropping and mouth falling open in rapture, cock swelling and hardening to the point of delicious, torturous pain, trapped in the hot, slick confines of Richie’s sexy mouth. 

Fuck, _fuck_ —it felt so good, his mind was awash with pleasure, quickly emptying of all else. The motley of chatter and laughter and festive music was but a distant echo in his ears, overpowered by the quiet roar of blood surging through his veins along with Richie’s throaty mewling noises.

Richie’s soft tongue and full lips moved back and forth across the hard length with unrelenting drive while his fingers grasped firmly at the base, warm saliva and leaking precum mixing and coating Eddie’s twitching cock. As the momentum built, Richie kept dipping in further, taking him in deeper until Eddie’s sensitive tip brushed against the back of his throat again and again, and Eddie felt like he was on _fire_ , hands dropping down to bury into Richie’s soft locks.

Being swallowed so deep felt so good, he couldn’t even moan. He could only gasp roughly, hands knotting tightly into Richie’s hair. He was probably hurting him, but he was beyond the point of caring; he could barely formulate a coherent thought. Little shockwaves shot out from the place Richie’s mouth was clamped around him, sending shivers of pleasure down his legs, into his hard abs, up along his spine, and he just wanted more—so much more. 

He wanted Richie inside of him, wanted to feel Richie ramming his hard cock into him, feel Richie’s hands all over his naked skin.

God—he wanted the stupid dumbass so fucking much, he was _crazy_ with it.

“Richie…” he started murmuring urgently, slipping a hand underneath his jaw until Richie pulled back and looked up at him. He didn’t want to come—not yet.

Richie looked so unbearably hot with his flushed face right up at Eddie’s leaking erection, swollen lips parted, warm breath wafting over the delicate skin, it made Eddie’s knees want to buckle. By the look in his eye he knew exactly what Eddie wanted, but he continued to play with his cock, stroking its lubricated length with his hand and brushing his tongue across the tip with little tantalizing motions, lips quirked into a grin. 

Fuck, at least that mouth was good for something. 

“… Just come up here and fuck me,” Eddie rasped quietly, tugging at him.

Richie didn’t wait to be asked again. 

Grabbing hold of Eddie’s trousers, he yanked them all the way down and tossed them aside along with his shoes before coming back up to unbutton Eddie’s dress shirt from the bottom up. “Lie back,” he was instructing with rising urgency, pressing his hot palms flat against Eddie’s stomach muscles and giving him a steering push. “God, you’re so fucking hot… I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

Before Eddie could form another thought, he was flat on his back on the smooth green surface of the billiards table, raised edge digging into his naked ass, and Richie’s hands had hooked under his knees, guiding his legs to rest up over Richie’s shoulders. Eddie’s heart was beating a mile a minute, breath coming in fast as he watched Richie swiftly undo his own pants, releasing his own leaking erection that looked more than ready to fuck Eddie into next year.

With a needy, impatient groan, Richie grabbed hold of Eddie’s hip with one hand and began guiding his cock in with the other. His movements were shaky and rushed like he was barely holding on to control, shivers of heat and anticipation flowing between them. As the silky tip brushed against Eddie’s buttocks and started pushing its way in, Eddie had to force himself to loosen his muscles to allow for the rough penetration—but even with the pain blossoming there, he could barely hold himself back from begging for it.

“Just fuck me already,” he moaned, the words foreign on his tongue because he hardly ever spoke during sex, but this was different. He didn’t know how, but it was. 

In response, Richie gave a hard thrust to bury himself down to the hilt like he couldn’t help it, wringing a coarse gasp from Eddie’s parted lips. After a moment’s pause he started rocking into him, slow and steady, marking traces of fire inside of Eddie. The thickness of his cock stretched and seared, just barely slicked with precum. 

Before long, it started feeling good, pushing the pain to the very back of Eddie’s mind. As the heat between them built, the passion flared, and Eddie found himself arching into it, grasping at the edge of the table for purchase. 

God—he loved the feeling of the hard shaft of Richie’s throbbing cock sliding against his tight muscles, the feeling of being taken by him. 

He felt alive… on fire. Like every breath of air was the most addictive drug.

A series of gasped moans left his throat when Richie’s hand found its way to his reviving erection, quickly stroking it back to full attention. Rubbing his thumb over the leaking tip, Richie spread his precum over it, deft fingers picking up a fast pace to match his unrelenting thrusts. 

With each stroke and thrust, a writhing pleasure shot through Eddie’s nerves. Moans and hissed curses were escaping both of them as Richie ground into him harder, pushing Eddie’s body to its limits. Eddie could think of nothing else, lost in the raw sensation of it all.

Being used this way felt _good_ , so fucking good it stripped him down to his most primal instincts. 

“Oh, God…” he breathed, licking over his lips between harsh pants. His heart was going rabid within its ribcage, overcome with raw emotion. “Don’t stop… I want you so fucking bad.”

With Richie’s cock all the way up his ass, pounding harder and deeper, and Richie’s hand stroking him in the front, pleasure coursed unrestrained through Eddie’s body, making him hypersensitive to the point of sweet pain. Richie’s free hand was parting his dress shirt further, exploring freely across the hard planes of his muscles, brushing over his nipples, caressing his outer thighs. Every one of his touches burned, spreading like a brushfire along every nerve in Eddie’s body.

“Eddie…” Richie chanted and moaned, voice edging on desperation. “ _Fuck_ , feels so damn good…”

It was all so hot, so fucking arousing—the rough scrape of the billiards table, Richie’s tuxedo-clad body thrusting into him, the distinct smell of cue chalk and alcohol, the risk, the spontaneity, the illicit nature of it all, Eddie was _drunk_ with it. 

Despite his earlier reservations, something about doing it here, in public, with the hum of dozens of people just across the hallway turned him on like nothing had ever done before. He’d long gone past simple arousal, fierce desire overcoming any traces of embarrassment or inhibitions. 

It was like the perfect wet dream he never wanted to wake up from. 

“God, Richie, fuck me… fuck me harder,” Eddie panted, ready to plummet over the edge. He was getting so close, he could hardly stand it.

Several furious thrusts later, his world exploded into blinding white light, sending violent convulsions along his hard abs, the boiling blood in his veins pumping so hard it roared like raging rapids in his ears. He gave a shuddering moan as thick, white liquid erupted from his cock, shooting out onto his abdomen until it was well spent within Richie’s tight grasp.

Consumed by its aftershocks and swimming in pleasure, Eddie barely registered that Richie wasn’t far behind, his erratic breathing loud and harsh in the silence of the room.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come so hard,” Richie was muttering, eyebrows drawn, lips parted in concentration. A few instants later, his body tensed and he was snapping his hips into Eddie with barely coordinated jerks, moaning, “I’m coming… fuck, Eds, I’m coming,” releasing a hot spurt of liquid that coated Eddie on the inside, claiming him for Richie’s own.

Once Richie’s thrusting ceased, Eddie shut his eyes, dazed out of his mind. His entire body shivered, limp and weak, chest rising and falling rapidly. He felt ridiculously happy for once, unable to imagine a better outcome for his night.

When he’d opened them again, Richie’s hands were reaching for him, urging him to sit back up. Sweeping back the gelled fringe that had loosened over his forehead, Eddie slipped his drained legs off of Richie’s shoulders and pulled himself up to a perched position at the edge of the table.

As he did so, Richie tightened his arms around him, bringing them closer together. 

Their eyes met in breathless silence. Their faces were so close their noses nearly touched, matching smiles feverish with stupid satisfaction.

“Do I get that kiss now?” Richie asked; softly, almost lovingly.

Emptied of all mischief, his eyes were a dark, piercing brown—but there was more than lust there. The dawn of sentiment lay hidden underneath, a warm tenderness that sparked a counterpart deep within Eddie’s heart, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Something about Richie called out to him, something comforting and familiar, and Eddie yearned to follow it, helpless to resist. 

It almost felt like… they’d known each other their entire lives. 

Gapping the inch between their faces, Eddie brushed his lips ever so softly over Richie’s, parting them slightly to allow for deeper contact. 

His eyes fell closed when Richie pressed in for more, responding in kind. They kissed a few more times, slowly, sweetly, like they were at the end of a really good date with more than just mindless sex between them, their grasps at each other surprisingly gentle.

It felt good—God, it felt _right_. Eddie’s chest hurt with it.

When they parted, Eddie was the first to break the silence. “So did I prove you wrong?”

“I stand corrected,” Richie murmured with an expression that could almost, _almost_ pass as charming, his long eyelashes lowered over an intrigued gaze that remained focused solely on Eddie. “I wouldn’t mind being proven wrong again. Dinner tomorrow?”

“Not sure I could handle listening to your trash for a whole hour or two,” Eddie replied, eyes never straying away from Richie’s hypnotic stare. He could feel Richie’s heart beating, still restless against his chest. “You’re dreadfully annoying.”

“We’ll make it quick. Then you’re welcome to shut me up for the rest of the night.”

Eddie hummed. “I might be able to tolerate that.”

Richie’s smile stretched, white teeth making a reappearance. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!!


End file.
